


Detention

by Silbane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbane/pseuds/Silbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An absent-minded Ravenclaw lands herself in detention with her intimidating Potions professor, Severus Snape. When he discovers her secret crush, how will he react?</p><p>[Severus Snape with female OC. Mild power dynamics, but no BDSM. Definitely not shooting for realism here, folks.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for my (continuing) hiatus and I know people hate long author's notes, so I'll get on with it. OOC-ish Snape. Enjoy!

Ava realized several minutes into her class that she hadn't been paying attention to anything the professor was saying. She'd managed to be conscious enough to open her textbook to whatever page he'd said, but that was apparently the extent of her attention span this afternoon. Straightening her back (also removing her chin from her palm, a position of boredom was just _asking_ for detention in Snape's class) and yawning as silently as possible, she tuned into his lecture.

“Whoever is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of this potion from the likes of this class, may mercy be stowed upon them and their future.”

Ava couldn't resist a snort of laughter. She knew better than to laugh at anything that could be interpreted as a joke in one of Snape's classes, but it caught her off guard so quick she couldn't keep it from happening. _Oops._

He was in front of her table in an instant, leaning in with his palms on the chipped wood. “Is something funny, Miss Dragmire?”

All eyes were on her, and she felt her pulse begin to race. _Bollocks_. “I'm sorry, sir.” _Please let that be a good enough answer._

“You didn't answer my question.”

 _No, of course it wouldn't be._ “Y-your joke, um, I just... I thought it was funny.” Internally, she begged her cheeks not to make her blush out of embarrassment but it seemed inevitable.

He leaned in closer to her, a disdainful sneer on his lips. “Amortentia, the _potion of love_ is no laughing matter. Five points from Ravenclaw--” she could feel the death glares from her housemates at her back, “--and detention this evening, eight o'clock, sharp.” He straightened from the table and whirled away from her, back toward his stand in a flurry of cape and robes.

“Yes, professor.” She replied in a solemn tone.

The rest of class went by smoothly, at least. The only hitch was when her turn came around to smell the potion in its finished state; it smelled of books (of course), wheat fields, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on that was starting to drive her mad.

The time came for her detention and she made her way down to the dungeons. If she was being honest with herself, she was a bit excited to serve detention with Professor Snape, as it would be her first. She secretly hoped she was the only one on the receiving end of his wrath today so they could be alone, but she thought that highly unlikely. On the other end, she'd heard many nightmarish stories of his punishments and she could only hope his choice for her wouldn't be too awful.

She paused mid-stride as she entered the room, her attention zoning in on the air around her. It was dusty and dank, being that she was of course in the dungeons, but once she stepped into the classroom other scents wafted to her. Potions ingredients, varying between sweet and flowery to putrid, and the unmistakable smell of aftershave. The thing she couldn't recognize from the Amortentia, she'd found it, and a blush so red she was certain it spread over her entire body creeped upon her.

Ava knew she had a crush, but she didn't think it was _that_ bad.

After a brief recovery period and trying to appear relaxed, she called to him. “I'm here for my detention, sir.”

As if he'd been ignoring her from the moment she made her entrance, Professor Snape looked up from grading parchment. “I see you've managed to be on time, Miss Dragmire.” He stood from his desk swiftly and gestured for her to follow him. “Come.”

She hurried after him, both arriving at a small sink with a table loaded with dirtied cauldrons beside it. “Your punishment is to clean _all_ of them, _without_ the use of magic, by the end of the night.”

 _For giggling in class?_ Ava thought in disbelief. She couldn't possibly imagine what it would be like to receive what he believed proper retribution for any number of other things in his class. Before he left her to it, she piped up. “What am I to use then, Professor?” He held up a single scrubbing pad in front of her, which she hesitantly took from his hand and brushed her fingers against his quite intentionally in the process.

He seemed unnerved as he spun around, striding back to his desk.

After the first few cauldrons, she was more knowledgeable of how to hold the pot while she cleaned certain areas and how hard or soft she needed to scrub depending on what she was cleaning off of it. It allowed her to zone out a bit listening to the sounds of her work and Professor Snape's avid scribbling and parchment shuffling. Her mind drifted to the odd realization she'd had when she entered the classroom just a bit earlier. She hadn't been paying attention during his early description of Amortentia and couldn't for the life of her remember if the smell of Amortentia pertained to be _in love_ or _infatuated_. She couldn't help her bubbling curiosity and spoke up into the quiet room turning her head a bit to peer out of the corner of her eye at him. “Professor?”

He dismissed her immediately. “Miss Dragmire, I assume your coming question is relevant to the task at hand.”

“Oh, um... nevermind, sir.” Any hopes that he would be curious enough to inquire further were thrown out of the window when he turned back to his papers with disinterest. It was probably for the best, considering he'd likely answered the question when she wasn't paying attention and could simply look it up in her textbook later.

She didn't know how long it had been since she started her work, but she was about three-fourths of the way done when she nicked her finger on something sharp while she was scrubbing. Ava set the cauldron down for a moment and examined the tip of her thumb, dreading that the most useful of her digits was now in disrepair. She brushed a finger across it to test the level of pain and flinched a bit when a small but notable shiver of pain shot through it. She wondered if her Professor would be the type to offer a remedy of some sort or if he would send her to Poppy. If anything, she supposed she could visit the woman after the detention was over.

“Miss Dragmire.” His intimidating voice permeated her right ear unexpectedly.

“Eep!” Ava clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the shriek she nearly let out; she hadn't even heard him approach. She knew why they called him the bat of the dungeons, but right now she thought he embodied the attributes of a prowling cat much better. Her heart calmed down slowly and she turned to face him. “Yes, sir?”

“You're taking an awfully long time to complete your task. Am I to believe you're intending to waste _both_ our times this evening?” He paused like he intended for her to reply, then cut back in a moment later. “ _If_ you're so eager to spend more time in the dungeons, I can just as easily assign a second detention for you. However, I promise your next punishment will not be as enjoyable as the one you have now.”

If Ava were being honest with herself, she knew that a part of her infatuation with him had to do with the absolute terror he could wrought on any given person, and right now that little kink was really exacerbating itself. _If it involves you being this close to me, then yes please,_ she couldn't keep herself from thinking _._ “N-no, sir. I'm sorry. I'll hurry.” She nodded and turned her back to him once more, picking up the cauldron she'd been working on and scrubbing with her uninjured hand and resolutely ignoring the few seconds he lingered behind her back before leaving again.

The pain of her cut dulled as the time passed and once again her mind wandered to him. Now that she wasn't in an enclosed space with him and had a moment of clear thought, she thought it funny that he'd insinuated she was wasting his time, when he'd obviously had quite a bit of work to catch up on. She wondered again if she should or shouldn't ask him regarding the Amortentia for no other reason than to get him curious. But then she wondered, would it benefit her for him to know of her crush? Would that ensure his wrath or intrigue him? She hardly expected the latter, but it was worth a shot, right? Additionally, when he'd brought her to the sink earlier, she'd registered that his hair wasn't greasy at all today, and it was rather nice. That must explain the scent of aftershave in the classroom if he'd recently bathed. Which reminded her of a few days ago when she'd been sitting in the tub, cleaning herself leisurely when she'd begun to play with her own breasts in the silky, soapy water, imagining what it would be like to have his own hands on her. Before her mind wandered too far, she cleared her throat and pretended she wasn't sharing a classroom with that man, alone.

Ava noticed that she'd stopped scrubbing and moved to start again, but was too late. “Is there something on your mind distracting you from performing your duties Miss Dragmire?”

Her entire mind frayed and halted all processes. It was almost frightening how easily he could overwhelm her. She turned and rested her hands on the sink, leaning back. A chill ran down her spine as their eyes met and she wasn't entirely sure she enjoyed it. “Sir!” _think of an answer, think of an answer!_ she thought desperately, “uhm, no, Professor.”

His black eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to her. “I'm inclined to believe you aren't telling me the truth.”

Ava shook her head, trying to shoo away her uncertainty. She couldn't understand why she was feeling so pathetic at the moment. And why wouldn't he believe her? “What? Why?”

“A _hunch._ ” Her head spun. “Tell me, _what_ are you thinking about, Miss Dragmire?”

 _How did he know?!_ “You!” For the second time that evening, her hands clapped to her face in embarrassment as if hiding her face would make her cheeks stop burning.

He ceased his mental assault on her, seeming to take pleasure in her admission. “Is that so?”

She refused to move her hands from her face, terrified that if she spoke again she'd be in more trouble than she could ever dream.

“Answer me.” His voice had more force in it now, and she tried to stop herself from whimpering. The mixture of fear and excitement was driving her mad.

A small whispered “Yes” escaped her lips, and his expression turned dark. He grabbed her wrist and unceremoniously dragged her to the center of the classroom.

His voice was low beside her ear. “Do you have any idea the _dangers_ of being infatuated with your teacher, Miss Dragmire?” She stood stock-still as he began to circle her like a vulture, his close proximity and condescension wreaking havoc on her senses. “Instilling a power dynamic such as _lust_ in a professional relationship can alter the delicate balance between student and teacher irreparably.” He stopped in front of her suddenly. “Are you even prepared to do such damage, you silly girl?”

Her breathing was heavy, the beginning of arousal making itself known in her nethers, and she couldn't seem to find the words to speak.

Impatient, he pointed to her spot in the classroom. “ _Sit._ ”

Ava obeyed his instruction without hesitation, unable to tell whether she was about to be expelled or ravaged. She placed her hands on the table in an attempt to center herself back to some form of reality when a shock of pain once again emanated from her thumb. Professor Snape looked about to lay into her once more, and she moved her hands under the table to her lap, not wanting to break whatever was about to happen. His eyes met hers steadily as he leaned on the table.

“Why did you wince?”

 _No, no, I ruined it!_ “I didn't.” She lied.

She watched a muscle in his jaw tighten and relax. He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. “Did you injure yourself while scrubbing the cauldrons, Miss Dragmire?”

She opened her mouth, ready to lie again, but she felt like his sudden warmth was something she'd like to see extended. “Yes.”

“You should have informed me. Let me see it.” He held out his hand for hers to place in it, which she acquiesced, and examined her hand and fingers before finding what he was looking for. With a sound of distaste, he held out his free hand and called out “Accio Murtlap Essence.” A bottle snapped to his hand from a corner of the room, and he released her hand momentarily to unscrew the bottle and pull out the dropper.

“Your hand again.” There was no please, but she didn't mind. She all-too-eagerly placed her hand back in his, palm up, so he could administer the pain reliever. He observed its healing for a brief moment and stoppered the bottle once more when he was satisfied with the results. With a more indulgent tone than she was used to, he picked up more or less where he'd left off a few minutes earlier. “I'll ask you again, Miss Dragmire. Are you prepared to do such damage?”

Her mind was less foggy now, but she was still warmed from his touch. “Yes, sir.”

He looked at her, sending a cool shiver down her spine similar to the one earlier, before he stood abruptly and moved himself around to settle behind her. His breath was suddenly against her neck, his deep voice whispering into her ear. “Naturally, you couldn't tell a soul.”

She felt her nipples start to harden beneath her blouse. She whispered as well in reply. “Of course not, sir.”

“And I wouldn't treat you with any favoritism in class.”

“I know, sir.”

“You know this is horribly inappropriate, considering our age gap.”

“I'm fine with that, sir.” She was convinced he was trying to kill her with anticipation, but she was adamant.

It was then that he placed his hands on the table, his arms closing in on either side of her. She bit her lip.

His lips were dangerously close to her earlobe, now. “Are you sure, Miss Dragmire?”

She could feel her quim dampening her knickers with arousal. “Yes, Professor.”

The feel of his lips brushing against her ear was heady. Ava heard herself gasp, her breath proceeding to catch in her chest, terrified that if she exhaled this dream would surely end.

She didn't have a choice but to exhale, however, when his hand left its spot on the table and wandered down to her skirt, careful to pull its pleats out of the way until finding its place at her nethers.

Ava could feel him smile against her skin as he placed small kisses along her exposed neckline. “Already wet, Miss Dragmire?”

She almost couldn't bring herself to speak, but when she did, she pulled her words straight from her heart. “Only for you, sir.”

He took in a sharp breath at her confession and began to put pressure on the spot where her clit was hiding, drawing small circles with the pads of his fingers. Her hands curled into fists involuntarily.

After a short time, he slipped his fingers past the fabric and resumed his ministrations, a sharp moan leaving her lungs. As if it weren't enough to have him rubbing her through her knickers, the feel of his flesh on hers, toying with her most private area... The sensation was delicious. He quickened the pace a bit, his own breath growing short, smearing around her own wetness. The level of embarrassment she knew she should feel only made it better. Before she realized how far he'd taken her, Ava began to climax, and she pressed her back against his chest so he could feel her body quiver. Her breath soon calmed and he pulled himself away, much to her despair. He made no attempt to draw his own pleasure from her but instead took his seat once again at his desk at the front of the classroom. Not knowing what to do with herself, she stood awkwardly, the uncomfortable mushy feeling in her knickers only amplifying the odd air in the room.

“Unfortunately I have no other option but to assign you another detention for refusing to complete your assigned task this evening. Be here again tomorrow night, eight o'clock, sharp.” His tone was serious, but the lust in his eyes and the smirk playing at the corners of his lips made her heart dance.

“I'm sorry, sir. I promise to do better next time.” She bowed slightly, opened the door to leave, and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this little fic!
> 
> As always, if you're not up for leaving a comment, kudos make my heart sing! <3


End file.
